


adore you

by Comedia



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Dates, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Excessive Swearing, Food, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, dumb flirting, i wrote this when i was drunk, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29988777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comedia/pseuds/Comedia
Summary: Daniel takes Johnny out for a fancy dinner.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 21
Kudos: 121
Collections: CobraKaiOnTheRun





	adore you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sohii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohii/gifts).



Daniel LaRusso is taking Johnny out to dinner, and not just any dinner, a goddamn tasting menu. They’re supposed to eat something like thirteen meals, and in any other circumstance, Johnny would be all about taking on a challenge like that. More than once he’s found himself in some kind of eating contest, that usually started with someone saying “bet you can’t eat ten burgers” or some insolent shit like that. This, however, is not about eating _a lot_ of food. It’s _fancy,_ so it’s the opposite.

Miguel googled the place. Apparently, most of the meals are like. A spoon. With some foofoo shit on it. And somehow it still takes five hours to eat all of these tiny-ass spoons.

Anyway. They’ve been doing this _thing_ for almost half a year now – something Johnny is extremely aware of, because anyone who gets to fuck Daniel LaRusso consistently for a longer period of time would also count the days – so, of course, Daniel had to go and be all romantic about it.

That’s the thing about LaRusso. He’s the kind of man who’ll steal glances at Johnny and smile to himself in a disbelieving, yet content, sort of way. He’ll steal a kiss in the moments before class, and he’ll sneak pet names like “babe” and “shithead” into conversation, as if he’s completely unaware of what that does to Johnny.

But. Daniel LaRusso is also a giant fucking asshole.

Sometimes the romantic and the asshole combine, and then, well, Johnny ends up having to go to an upper-class bullshit restaurant on their six-month anniversary.

“Dress nice for me”, Daniel had the nerve to text earlier in the day. Not only that, he gave no further instructions.

Typical LaRusso behaviour. So, Johnny dresses in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. The jeans are fairly new and the fabric is still a dark blue, but he can’t even remember when he got the shirt. It’s washed out enough that you can probably see his nipples on a sunny day, so – good thing they’re going out at night.

Before heading out he puts some styling product in his hair for once, not really knowing how to apply it. It’s just some brand Daniel’s left in his bathroom weeks earlier, and the end result is well… messy. But also shiny. Definitely that _golden locks-_ look Daniel likes so much.

Johnny is very well aware this isn’t what Daniel means when he asks him to dress nice, but well, the beautiful thing about their relationship is that they’re both assholes. It doesn’t balance anything out, but neither of them have to feel bad when they, well, are major assholes about something.

He is also well aware that this is _exactly_ the kind of look Daniel LaRusso is into, because he’s a nostalgic lil freak.

Daniel will pretend the outfit pisses him off, but Johnny knows him; knows that Daniel is weak for that dumb, young love shit. That there’s a skip to his step when Johnny rolls up, music blaring, windows rolled down, and whistles for Daniel to join him in the car. That Daniel gets all giddy when Johnny mixes him incredibly shitty rum and cokes with a horrible alcohol to soda ratio, and that somehow those drinks are enough to have Daniel crowd him against the nearest wall. To make out like they’re young and carefree and haven’t waged a karate war against each-other at all.

Johnny isn’t sure if it’s about lost youth, per se, because it’s not like their teenage years were _lost,_ but these months with Daniel sure has felt like rediscovering something.

Life is fucking weird.

He meets Daniel at the restaurant. Daniel; dressed in a form-fitting suit for once, dark hair all shiny and combed to perfection, his tie all… neat. It’s ridiculous how a guy this unhinged can just present so neatly to the world. On the other hand, Johnny kind of likes how he’s one of the few people who really knows what Daniel LaRusso is like. That crazed gleam in his eye; hungry smirk; what he looks like when he’s bruised and bloodied and ready to kill a man. Johnny really should’ve known this would be the kind of crazy bastard he’d be drawn to; should’ve known fucking decades ago.

 _“Johnny”,_ Daniel sighs as he approaches, and while the guy does manage a pretty convincing exasperated tone, his amber eyes are trailing the slim fit of Johnny’s t-shirt, down, down, and then snapping back to his face, his lips. “I said dress nice.”

“I did”, Johnny says, not even trying to sound innocent. Daniel just keeps staring at him, not saying anything, so Johnny raises an eyebrow, daring him to actually say something stupid. For once, Daniel doesn’t choose violence, and instead nods towards the entrance.

“We’re a bit early, let’s grab some drinks while we wait.”

As they take their seats at the bar, Daniel leans in close – close enough that Johnny can feel warm breath against his neck, his ear. “If you order beer I will fucking kill you.”

“Always the romantic”, Johnny sing-songs, turning quickly to catch Daniel off-guard, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, drinking in Daniel’s surprised gasp for but a second, before he pulls away.

Then he turns to the bartender with a shit-eating grin. “Give me the fruitiest damn thing you have.”

Even if the drink turns out to be shit, it’ll be worth it for the strangled noise Daniel makes the second he states his order.

The drink turns out to consist of about five different liqueurs with a base of vodka. It packs a goddamn punch. Johnny has two more before they’re even seated at the table, while Daniel is all classy and has two of the evening specials. The evening special is called “death in the afternoon”, and honestly, Johnny would never willingly drink something that has the word “death” in the name, and also – the drink tastes all herby and shit. He’s been tasting it a lot. Off Daniel’s lips. Because neither of them have eaten since lunch, and at this point the drinks are catching up with them; making out at the bar seems like a wonderful idea.

Finally, a waiter comes to find them. They’re led to a table, and the dude asks _if they’ve been here before._ Johnny is about to fake gag, but Daniel kicks him under the table before he has the chance to utter a single word, or well – noise. While Johnny’s busy breathing through the pain – Daniel did _not_ have to put that much force into it, fucking _show-off_ – the waiter explains to them how the restaurant works. As if Johnny doesn’t have Miguel who can google for him and find out all kinds of dirty secrets on this place. Like their weird-ass spoon thing.

Finally, the waiter leaves them in peace, and Johnny immediately leans over the table to catch Daniel’s eye. “Did he say anything important?”

All he gets in reply is Daniel rolling his eyes, but then he reaches into the pocket of his blazer and pulls out his reading glasses. The absolute fucking _bastard._ They’ve dated for half a year and Johnny has seen these glasses maybe, three times. Daniel thinks they make him look old. Johnny thinks it makes him look, well… fuck. The way they frame Daniel’s soulful eyes? How they enhance his dark features? Johnny sure as hell ain’t gonna complain. In fact, he may, in a moment of weakness, have told Daniel to wear the glasses to bed. Daniel did _not._

Now the asshole is reading the menu, taking his damn time, as if it’s _so fascinating_ to find out the order in which these spoons are going to appear, and he _knows_ what he’s doing. He’s trailing each menu item with his finger, mouthing the words, knowing Johnny’s gaze are on his lips.

Finally, those dark eyes find Johnny’s, and Daniel smiles mildly. “What’s up?”

“My dick”, Johnny replies immediately, and it might not be exactly true, but it will be soon enough. “Can’t believe you’re so shameless, LaRusso, wearing glasses in public.”

“There is only one person with a glasses fetish”, Daniel starts, then lowering his voice as a waiter walks by their table. He leans forward, his voice a whisper now. “And that’s you, Johnny Lawrence.”

“Fuck yeah”, Johnny replies, grinning widely.

Then he gets cockblocked by a waiter who announces that he’ll be theirs for the evening. Daniel doesn’t even act like that’s a weird thing to say, so Johnny shuts up and nods along.

“Welcome, gentlemen, and let me know if I can do anything for you”, the waiter ends his little speech, and Johnny snorts derisively, not because he’s got a problem with the waiter per se, but because he’d rather die than be referred to as a “gentleman”.

“I’ll leave you with this little appetizer”, the waiter says with a pleasant smile, gesturing with this metallic tin he’s carrying. It sort of looks like canned tuna. “Please hold out one of your hands.”

Johnny just stares at the guy, while Daniel follows the instructions dutifully. In dawning horror, Johnny watches the waiter use a tiny, tiny spoon to scoop up this black goo from the tin and place it on the back of Daniel’s hand, between the base of his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger.

This is fucking bizarre, but he can’t think of anything snarky to say, so Johnny just… dumbly extends his hand. Watches the waiter dispose the black shit on his hand as well. It’s cool to the touch. Wet.

“So, I snort it?” Johnny asks, his eyes not leaving the gross goo.

The waiter startles. “No, sir, you eat it.”

“Off my hand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why the hell would you put this on the back of my hand if I’m not supposed to snort it?”

The waiter looks between Johnny and Daniel, as if he expects Daniel to mercifully intervene; as if the fancy suit somehow signals that he’s an at all well-balanced human being. The waiter isn’t exactly _saved_ by Daniel, but he _is_ dismissed, and then they eat the damn goo. Apparently, it’s caviar. It mostly tastes like salt, and maybe… velvet. Johnny is pretty sure he’s at one point had his face shoved into a mat that had a similar flavour.

From that point on, the night passes in a blur of spoons. Spoons with exotic cabbage and raw fish and tomato. Fucking tomato. Since when is that shit fancy? _Diners_ have tomatoes, fucks sake.

It turns out that while the portion sizes are super tiny, the wine glasses are very full. For each dish they get probably half a glass’s worth of some French-ass wine, and then they’re supposed to drink it before the next dish. By the end of the night, they’re barely coherent, and the waiter seems to be somewhere between exasperated and entertained.

He’s trying to explain the last dish of the night to them, something-something-beef, and Daniel is incapable of letting the man speak. He just keeps laughing, tears at the corner of his eyes.

“Wagyu”, Daniel chokes out, as if he’s never heard anything this funny in his life. Then he looks at Johnny, waggling his eyebrows. _“Wagyu doin’?”_

And Johnny hushes him, because it’s the only thing he can do not to break into laughter himself. “Daniel, the man is trying to explain the spoon to us.”

Their long-suffering waiter gives Johnny a grateful nod, and then continues with the detailed explanation of what’s on this spoon in particular. Something about sturgeon and cows and… Johnny stares at the tiny, tiny egg on top of the dish.

“Dude, what’s wrong with the egg yolk?”

“What do you mean?” The waiter stares at the dish, suddenly worried, and he _should be._

“Why is it freakishly small? What did you do to the chicken?”

The waiter turns his thousand-yard stare at Johnny. Johnny stares at the waiter. Daniel doubles over the table, snickering, reaching for his wine glass as if drinking more would make anything better at this point.

Then there’s a warm hand on his knee, and despite how Daniel’s touch is strictly below the table, it feels sort of shameless. Still, Johnny relaxes into his chair, stretching out his legs, allowing Daniel better access.

“Enjoy”, the waiter says weakly, walking off. Apparently, they’re not subtle at all. Not that they can be excepted to; ten glasses of wine into the evening.

“It’s _quail,_ Johnny”, Daniel slurs, and his words make _no sense_ until he points at the weird little egg.

Johnny smirks, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Well, I’ll make you quail later tonight.”

Daniel chokes on his wine, and then he’s laughing again, his eyes sparkling even in the dim light of the restaurant. “I don’t even know what that means”, he breathes, finally.

“Well, you’ll find out soon enough”, Johnny says, confidently, feeling like he definitely managed to cover for the fact that he has no idea how the innuendo is supposed to be interpreted.

By the time they make it out of the restaurant they’re swaying, and neither of them should be driving.

“I’m fucking starving”, Johnny groans, leaning on Daniel’s shoulder to stay upright. He knows it’s probably a horribly rude thing to say, but they’ve been at this place for seven hours and ate a total of thirteen spoons of food.

“Thank _god”,_ Daniel breathes, and Johnny isn’t exactly following his train of thought, but then Daniel’s grabbed his hand and is dragging him down the street. “You okay with burgers?”

“I’d honestly blow Patrick Swayze for a burger right about now”, Johnny replies, a bit too quickly.

“No, you wouldn’t, you hate Patrick Swayze”, Daniel mutters, not even sparing Johnny a glance.

“I don’t, I just… I think I could take him in a fight”, Johnny says, as they’re entering a nearby diner. “That mullet makes for such a good handle. You can just swing him around.”

Daniel isn’t even listening, instead placing an order for the both of them. Johnny wonders what they must seem like to the poor kid working the late-night shift. Two old men stumbling in, mumbling about nonsense, barely coherent enough to specify that they want sugar with their coffee.

The place is fairly empty. Too early for the party people to come here, and too late for the people with normal routines. So, here they are, Daniel and Johnny, hunched over a table; sharing fries; sharing a milkshake; a burger each, and a coffee each.

When he’s halfway through the meal, Johnny clears his throat. “Uh, thank you”, he manages, mouth full of fries.

Daniel looks sort of surprised, smiling at him with those wide, warm eyes. “You’re welcome?”

“I mean”, Johnny starts, clearing his throat, drinking the bitter diner coffee to buy some time – how on earth is it still bitter after all the sugar he’s put in this damn thing? “That fancy place must’ve cost you a fortune. Thank you for wasting it on me.”

Daniel snorts a laugh, shaking his head. “It wasn’t a waste.”

Something about the lilt of his voice, the softness of his eyes, has Johnny believe him.

On an evening when they haven’t had this much to drink, Johnny would make sure to stay true to his promise to _“make Daniel quail”._ Now they stumble home in a haze, finding themselves on the couch – not even making out.

It should feel like a tragedy, but honestly? Daniel’s seated, his tie undone, hair a little messy, and Johnny’s laying with his head in his lap, staring up at him. Life could be worse. Life could entail never getting the chance to see Daniel LaRusso like this; relaxed and unguarded, and his touch so gentle where he traces patterns with his fingertips on Johnny’s arms.

“Hey”, Johnny breathes, his voice rough and barely carrying, but Daniel immediately snaps to attention, that dark gaze finding Johnny’s in an instant. He hesitates, because lord knows Johnny Lawrence isn’t good at words, and while they’re looking at each other, the room so quiet, Johnny raises a hand, fingers trailing Daniel’s jawline before his palm come to rest against his cheek. “I love you; you know?”

He’s unsure if he’s ever seen Daniel LaRusso smile so brightly.

“I know now”, Daniel says, biting his bottom lip as if that could possibly contain his grin. “And I love you too.”

“Figured”, Johnny murmurs, nuzzling against Daniel’s thigh, knowing it’s a dangerous move and not caring in the slightest. “I mean, either you got me that dinner to show your love, or to get in my pants, and we both know I’m easy, so…”

“Johnny Lawrence”, Daniel starts, his tone serious in a way he only manages while joking around. “There are many things you are, but easy is not one of them.”

“Didn’t I blow you on our first date?”

Daniel splutters a laugh, and Johnny thinks, well, he’d very much like for this to go on and on and on. If the singular goal for the rest of his life was to make Daniel LaRusso laugh, he’d be fine with that. More than fine, in fact.

Especially if the reward is this; Daniel putting on his ridiculously hot reading glasses, and pulling Johnny up for a kiss. Lips soft after a night of drinking; tongue bitter with the taste of alcohol; touch gentle from decades of longing. Daniel’s hands tangle in Johnny’s t-shirt, probably at risk of tearing it to pieces, but fuck, there’s nothing he longs for more than this. Daniel clinging to him; wanting him so unapologetically.

Not that they’ll fuck tonight. It’s past midnight. They’ve got lives outside of this – and they’re both drunk as fuck.

That doesn’t stop Johnny from undoing a few buttons on Daniel’s shirt, though. To slip a hand beneath the blue fabric and trace his chest – warm skin, the flex of muscle and the hard edges of bone. He kisses Daniel open mouthed, biting at his bottom lip, moaning into it, knowing that they’re too tired to take it further, but this, _god,_ this is _good._

It’s _good_ watching Daniel stare at him through the dark frame of those glasses, breathless. To see himself mirrored in Daniel’s eyes, feeling like he always has been there. As if it’s only been a matter of time until they found each other. Until he’d find himself here, curled up with his former rival, nothing but tenderness and stolen glances left between them.

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes i write short things on [tumblr](http://comediakaidanovsky.tumblr.com/) as well (but mostly i just cry about fictional characters), and i also have a messy af [twitter](https://twitter.com/comediafic)


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